


sweet as sugar

by peachsneakers



Series: 31 days of deceitber [7]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anxceit - Freeform, Baking, Christmas Cookies, Deceitber 2019, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Morally Neutral Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Deceit and Virgil bake Christmas cookies.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: 31 days of deceitber [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559476
Comments: 12
Kudos: 183





	sweet as sugar

"Are you sure you, baking, and kitchen belong in the same sentence?" Deceit asks, amused as he watches his flustered boyfriend scamper around the kitchen.

"Of course they do, I'm not _Remus_ ," Virgil says in exasperation. "Besides, it was _one time_ and you know it, you're the one who distracted me in the first place!"

"You're _Anxiety_ , something as simple as a little kiss shouldn't have distracted you that badly in the first place," Deceit counters, enjoying the rising blush spreading across Virgil's cheeks.

"It wasn't just a little kiss," Virgil grumbles, banging down a mixing bowl with more force than necessary. "It was five minutes long!"

"You liked it," Deceit says smugly.

"I- yeah," Virgil admits. "Are you going to help me or not? I stole the recipe from Patton, so it _should_ be edible."

"Oh, I suppose," Deceit drawls, sauntering all the way into the kitchen and stripping off his gloves, shoving them in one pocket. "If only because your only other choice of helper is Remus and then they really _will_ turn out inedible."

"That's putting it nicely," Virgil mutters. They both shudder, remembering the last time Remus was allowed unsupervised in the kitchen. The broken glass had 'provided a nice crunch.' Deceit still isn't sure what provoked him to add cologne to the pancake mix.

"So what are we making?" Deceit asks, peering over Virgil's shoulder.

"Christmas sugar cookies," Virgil answers absently, passing him the recipe. "I even borrowed the cookie cutters. I uh, need to put those back soon."

"You could have just asked," Deceit comments mildly.

"Then they wouldn't taste as sweet," Virgil says. "Pilfered goods always taste sweeter." Deceit laughs.

"You're the boss," he says, lifting his hands. "I'm just your lowly helper elf."

"You're too cute to be my lowly helper elf," Virgil says, and now it's Deceit's turn to feel his face heat up. "Pass me the sugar, would you?"

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Deceit asks, passing it over.

"Nope," Virgil admits cheerfully. "The recipe only tells me so much. Besides, why follow it that closely? It will probably turn out okay anyway, right? They're just cookies-"

"No, you are following the recipe," Deceit interrupts in alarm. "Not following the recipe is how you discover that Remus has added motor oil. And there are probably tons of other mundane ways for them to end up not actually cookies."

"Fine," Virgil grumbles, cracking the eggs and tossing them in a bowl. "But only because it's you."

"Thanks," Deceit says dryly, subsiding in relief as he watches Virgil peer down at the stolen recipe sheet.

Mixing passes in a blur of companionable silence, broken only by Virgil requesting this and that. As Deceit peers into the mixing bowl, he has to admit it certainly _looks_ like sugar cookie dough. There are no wriggling bits and it's all the right color. It even smells like cookie dough to his happily questing tongue.

"Now we cut it out," Virgil says, dumping a haphazard pile of cookie cutters on the counter. There are snowmen and what are probably meant to be reindeer (but look like very strange dogs) and snowflakes that will no doubt turn into amorphous blobs in the oven. Deceit happily presses some out, anyway, including a matching pair of cookie mittens.

"It's important to be warm," he tells a laughing Virgil. "Even in your cookies."

"You can't _wear_ them," Virgil points out.

"Keep that up and I'll kiss you for another five minutes," Deceit threatens. 

"All right, all right," Virgil says, putting his hands up defensively. "Calm thyself. I want these to turn out _not_ charcoal in the end."

"Just think," Deceit says. "If they do, we can just use them as kindling for the fire."

"As if you'll actually light one with Remus around," Virgil scoffs.

Deceit refuses to admit that Virgil has a point.

"Oh, shut up, and put these in the oven," he says, and grumpily bleps.


End file.
